


Take It Like You Mean It

by Amuly



Category: Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Avengers Vol. 1 (1963), Bottom Steve, Bottom Steve Rogers, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Fingerfucking, Identity Porn, Jealousy, M/M, Name-Calling, Secret Identity, Voyeurism, bottomstevefest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:11:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers is new to the Avengers and fitting in just fine. At least, he seems to be, though Tony notices that after battles he has a certain itch that needs scratching... in his ass. Soon enough, Tony finds himself watching as Steve fucks his way steadily through various teammates: Namor, Thor, Sam, Clint (or, more accurately, is fucked by them). </p><p>To Tony's great frustration, Steve never seems to ask Iron Man, or Tony Stark (because for all Steve Rogers knows, they're two different people) for a helping hand. It's enough to make a guy feel unwanted!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take It Like You Mean It

**Author's Note:**

> Steve/Tony is the ultimate relationship in the fic, but Steve has sex with the other men listed, some of which is explicitly described
> 
> Written for [bottomstevefest](http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/bottomstevefest)

  
  


Namor

Their new team member, Steve Rogers (aka Captain America, and wasn't that a trip?) was doing well so far, Tony mused as he blasted some neon-green squid in the face. He was fitting in, following orders, and more than that, he was contributing both on the battlefield and off, offering good ideas and pulling more than his own weight. Tony watched as Steve's shield sliced through ten tentacles that were wrapped around a civilian, then as the man himself rushed forward to get the young man out of the way of the fight. 

Tucking and rolling, Tony brought his weapons system onto the HUD in front of his eyes, scrolling through until he found the one he was looking for. His targeting system locked on a dozen of the squid-monsters, screen flashing green when it had the last one. He fired, miniature ballistics flying out and exploding once they found their target, bringing some nasty sushi raining down from the sky. 

“Nice moves, Iron Man!”

Tony glanced over to where Steve had his shield braced overhead, chunks of dead squid piled on top of it. When he brought the shield down, flicking the meat off it, his face was smiling up at Tony under the half-mask.

Tony offered Steve a little jaunty salute before they were both off again, beating the squids back to at least the shoreline.

And that was when _he_ showed up. Tony had run into him before, at various incidental battles staged near to the sea. Tony really should have been expecting him—probably had been, in the back of his mind. What he _hadn't_ been expecting was his newest team member's response to him.

“ _Namor_?!”

“Steven Rogers? I heard that you fell.”

“I did! But I'm back!”

Tony's armor-clad head whipped back and forth between the two men, who were grinning at each other like they were about to run across the battlefield and hug it out. Well, at least Steve was grinning that big. Namor was more subdued, but even his perpetual mask of cool condescension was no match for the shock of recognition undercutting it. 

“Heads back in the game, you two,” Tony ordered. Luckily the armor modulated his voice into a flatter affect than he had been able to maintain. “Namor, do you have any new information for us?”

“Of course I do,” Namor snapped, rolling his eyes. “Leave the sea-life up to me.” 

Namor, true to his word, made quick work of the squids. Apparently it was an experiment gone wrong and the squids were perturbed, but not actually an invasive force or harboring any overwhelming ill-will for humanity as a whole. 

Tony landed his armor on the dock when they were done, watching the other Avengers start helping out with the clean-up. Hank was giant-sized and collecting swathes of dead squid and piling them into biohazard containers, filling up two barrels with one handful. Jan was back to human-sized and helping out first-responders with injured civilians and getting an idea for what was left of the situation. Off to one side, Steve had dragged Namor aside with a hand to his elbow and was talking quietly to him. Curious as to what would have convinced Namor to stick around for three seconds after a battle, Tony unabashedly trained his in-suit sensors on the two men. 

“I am... disappointed to hear that you were in my domain for so long and I somehow remained ignorant,” Namor was saying. Inside his armor, Tony snorted. Probably the closest thing Namor had ever said to an apology in his life. 

“Not your problem, buddy,” Steve said lightly. Tony winced at the poorly hidden feeling of loss in Steve's tone. The big guy was fitting in so well, it was easy to forget how difficult it must be—try as Tony did as “Mr. Stark” to make things easier on him.

“Besides,” Steve rushed ahead, “it's about ten times better seeing an old face. Especially helping out today. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Hm.”

So the two men knew each other before Steve got put on ice. Tony had guessed as much, but now he had it confirmed. 

“You're looking good,” Steve continued. “Haven't really aged...”

“Good to see seventy years in the Atlantic hasn't _cooled_ everything about you, Steven Rogers.”

Tony blinked. What did _that_ mean?

Steve was rubbing the back of his head, looking greatly embarrassed. He was even scuffing his toe against the ground, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Well, I mean... I haven't really... didn't wanna ask my new teammates just yet...”

Ask them what? Tony wondered. Whatever it was, whatever Steve needed from them, Tony would move hell and high water to get it for him.

“I'm currently available.”

“Oh!” Steve's voice brightened, his whole demeanor lighting up. Tony narrowed his eyes at the two men. What the hell was happening?

“If you're interested in resuming the same ritual.”

“Oh! Heck yeah! I mean. Sure! Yeah. That'd be just... tops.” 

Steve was beaming at Namor like a kid in a candy shop, and it was bugging the crap out of Tony. What the hell...

“Iron Man!”

Growing quietly in frustration, Tony turned to where Jan was waiting for him, hands on her hips. “What can I do for you, Wasp?” With that, he put the whole odd exchange between Namor and Steve out of his mind.

Until the next day, when he ran into Steve in the Mansion kitchen looking more at-ease and peaceful than Tony had seen him since his unfreezing. He looked ten years younger and like he'd seen about two less wars. Tony stumbled on his way to the fridge, taking in the relaxed, _happy_ young man sitting in his kitchen.

“Hey, Steve,” Tony greeted him cautiously.

“Mr. Stark!” Steve's expression grew even brighter, if that was possible, as he set down his newspaper to greet Tony. “Good morning! How are you?”

“Great. Great,” Tony replied. He poured himself a glass of orange juice. “You look... chipper.”

Steve's face reddened slightly, tips of his ears turning pink as he glanced back down at his paper. “Guess I am. Nothing like a job done well to leave you satisfied.”

“Right,” Tony said slowly. He looked Steve up and down, trying to figure out what he was missing. “Iron Man told me the whole thing with the squids went well.”

Steve popped up from the breakfast bar, folding up his paper neatly. “Sure did!” he agreed. “And now I'm just gonna hit the gym. Gotta keep in tip-top shape! See you, Mr. Stark!”

“It's Tony!” Tony called after him. Steve just waved back at him as he darted off to the gym. Well, that was one more mystery on the team. Not like there was a lack of those going around.

Hank

“So how big exactly can you grow?” Steve was asking Hank. Tony was off to the side, Iron Man armor firmly in place as the Avengers milled about the war room.

“Twelve feet,” Hank explained. “Over that, I hit a problem with supporting my own weight and I can't move too well.”

Typical tactical thinking, on Steve's part. He was just trying to get a feel for his new teammates' powers. Tony could respect that. 

“What about individual pieces of your anatomy?” Steve asked. And that was... weird. Not the question: the question was totally reasonable. No, what was weird was that the Iron Man armor's sensors were picking up on something. Steve's heart rate was up, his breathing quicker. His palms were even sweating. It was pinging in his armor as a fear response, but that made no sense. Tony turned his attention a little more firmly to the conversation happening between the two men. 

“You man, can I grow my fist big and keep the rest of me small?” Hank asked.

A spike in Steve's heart rate, again, as he nodded his head. Weird.

“No,” Hank shook his head. Steve's heart rate went back down. What the hell was that? “The Pym particles I invented work using the properties of-” Tony turned his sensors down again, losing interest in the conversation as Hank once again launched into an explanation of his _amazing_ Pym particles. Quietly Tony scoffed to himself, safely hidden from view of his teammates by his armor. The mystery of the week wasn't how the Pym particles worked, or even how Jan managed to put up with Hank's constant need for approval. The mystery was what the heck was going on with Steve. Something that had come over him ever since their run-in with Namor, and Tony was determined to figure out what.

And then Steve's eyes flickered to Hank's groin and his tongue darted out to lick his lips, and Tony's eyebrows shot up so hard he was surprised they didn't clang against the crown of his armor. Oh. _Oh_.

The next day Tony ran into Steve in the kitchen again. This time Steve waved Tony over, inviting him to sit down with him at the breakfast island. “Hey, I had a question for you, Mr. Stark.”

“Tony,” he reminded Steve. He was never going to get the guy to call him by his first name. And after the looks Steve had been shooting Hank yesterday, Tony suddenly was more than a little invested in getting Steve to feel more familiar with him. 

“I don't mean to pry into anybody's personal lives on the team, but since they're both team members I figured it was relevant. Not that team members don't deserve privacy: I'm sure Iron Man told you I respect his privacy, no questions, so feel free to not answer if this is uncomfortable, but: are Hank and Jan... Uh. Stepping out? Together?” Steve fumbled out. 

Yeah, things were definitely starting to fall into place now. Obviously Steve was harboring some sort of crush on Hank. Tony wasn't sure what the Namor connection was, but he'd figure it out eventually. There were _two_ geniuses on this team, even if the rest of the team didn't know it. 

“Yeah, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I wouldn't go near her. Jan is pretty smitten on Hank,” Tony replied, purposefully misunderstanding Steve's inquiry to see if he could prompt a reaction. Unfortunately Steve just sat there and nodded, doing a poor job of faking his desire to ask a follow-up. Taking pity on the poor guy, Tony added after a beat: “and I'm pretty sure Hank feels the same way, once he takes a second to come up for air working in the lab.”

Steve nodded cautiously, eyeing up Tony like he was trying to figure out what he meant by that last bit. Tony smiled and set a reassuring hand on Steve's shoulder. “You know: in case you were interested in either one. No judgement here.”

Steve flushed bright scarlet at that and sputtered. “I... I wasn't... It would affect their behavior in the field. I need to know stuff like that! For strategy!”

“And inquiring into whether or not Hank could grow _specific_ parts of his anatomy?” Tony teased. With that Irish skin of his Steve was just too easy of a target. 

“Strategy.” Steve growled. 

“Don't worry, big guy. Secret's safe with me. I won't even tell Iron Man.” Which was technically true. 

“It's really not what you think,” Steve grumbled. Tony just laughed and ruffled Steve's hair as he pushed himself off his stool. 

“It's alright, Cap. Just lemme know when you get over Hank, and I'll take you to some clubs in the area. I'm sure we can find someone that'll catch your eye.” Like maybe someone with darker hair than Hank, better facial hair, richer...

Steve just rolled his eyes as Tony walked away. “It's not like that!” he insisted at Tony's fleeing back. Tony snorted. Of _course_ it was like that.

Thor

Thor pounded Steve's back with one mighty fist, mouth open wide in jovial laughter. Tony snorted inside his armor as Steve jolted forward with the force of the blow, then joined Thor in his laughter. 

“T'was a mighty battle!” Thor shouted. The guy loved to shout. “But you have vanquished the foe, my fine Captain! Come! We will drink and make merry together in the custom of my people!”

“Hey, uh...” Steve's heart rate jumped. Tony's eyes narrowed inside his suit as he honed in more on the conversation. He had taken to keeping half a sensor on Steve at all times after the whole Hank thing. Never knew what you might find out. 

“Iron Man!” 

Tony growled, turning away from Steve and Thor. Hank himself was running up, eyes gleaming as he held something. 

“Yes, Ant-Man?”

“I've found something! Something _incredible_. I was wondering if you could call up Mr. Stark and have him meet us back at the Mansion? He's _got_ to see this.”

“No problem,” Tony promised Hank distractedly. He still had an eye on Steve and Thor but he couldn't hear what they were saying with Hank yammering in his ear. “I'll call him en route. If he doesn't have any important business at the moment he should be at the Mansion shortly after us.”

“Great! Because this swarm that we fought, with the nanites: I think it was using a kind of hive-mind communication-” 

“I'll call Mr. Stark now,” Tony promised Hank, cutting him off. If the guy would just take a hint and shut it, Tony could hear what the hell had Thor laughing jovially and slapping a hand down on Steve's shoulder. 

“Right, okay! Tell him I'll see him at the Mansion!”

Tony growled and turned away from Hank, turning his sensors back on Thor and Steve.

“-sounds like a fine way to spend the evening! Your tradition is one I can partake in with relish, I'm sure!”

“Great!” Steve's heart rate was _way_ up, considering he was just standing around. Tony narrowed his eyes over at him, behind the slits of the Iron Man armor. 

“I shall see you tonight, my Captain. After we feast!” 

With that, Thor blasted off, hammer whirling forcefully. Guy had a flair for the dramatic, but he sure was a heavy hitter.

As for Steve, he was standing there looking about as excited as Tony had seen him with Namor, that last time. A suspicion grew in Tony's mind. Obviously he was over the whole Hank crush, whatever insanity _that_ was. So had he moved onto Thor, then? Was that their plan for the evening: to step out on a date together? Had Namor taken Steve on a date, after that one battle?

Too many questions and not enough information. Obviously Tony was going to have to do some sleuthing this evening. Good thing that being an incredibly wealthy futurist meant Tony had access to pretty much the best surveillance equipment this side of a helicarrier. 

That night, Tony fired up his cameras and microphones planted all around the Mansion and settled in with a scotch in his bathrobe to watch the proceedings. Around eight o'clock Steve slipped out of his bedroom in the Mansion, looking mighty suspicious. For a guy who ran some of the greatest stealth operations in World War II, he was pretty terrible about sneaking around. Still, Thor's bedroom was only two hallways and a couple doors down, so Steve made it without incident. 

Thor answered the door... naked. Okay then. Tony raised an eyebrow as he sipped on his scotch. This was getting interesting. Steve seemed unperturbed by the state of Thor's nudity, just pushing past him into the room so they could shut the door quickly. Tony had his left finger on the button to his cameras, ready to shut it off as soon as the action started. He wasn't about to spy on his teammates—no matter how much he might _want_ to.

But then something... unexpected happened. Steve stripped down, which okay, was pretty much expected. But he didn't move to kiss Thor, or grab his hand, or even jump his big blonde naked body and start going to town on him. Instead Steve headed for the bed immediately and climbed on. 

“Thanks so much for doing this for me, Thor,” Steve said over his shoulder. “I really needed it and wasn't sure who I could ask nowadays.”

Tony blinked. Ask who about what? Was this _not_ about sex? Steve sure wasn't acting how Tony would have imagined him to act: all prince charming and old-fashioned courting. Maybe there was some sort of medical thing Steve was looking for that no one else on the team could give him? Maybe that's why he had been excited to see Namor—the guy had super strength and flying abilities, and maybe _that's_ why he wanted Hank to help him out, because he could change size and had the proportional strength of an ant. Maybe it was some kind of... chiropractic procedure? Massage?

For a minute, Tony's theory held water. Thor shook his head and walked over to Steve on the bed, then placed his hands on Steve's shoulders. “Not at all, my shield brother. A request such as yours is not unheard of in Asgard. I find it more strange that you had such a hard time finding one who would fulfill it for you here.”

“Well, Hank has Jan, and Namor's kinda... only good in small doses,” Steve explained. “I can't ask Iron Man because his identity is still secret, and I'm pretty sure even _I_ can't take the Hulk.”

Tony laughed and downed the rest of his scotch. Okay, obviously whatever Steve was looking for wasn't sex. Though it'd be pretty funny, considering that Hulk line. This was some kind of post-battle detox ritual for him, some kind of wrestling match or something.

And then Steve gestured over to his pants and said: “Oh, sorry: can you get the lube? It's in my trouser pocket.”

Tony knocked over the decanter he had been reaching for and spilled it all over his floor.

On the screens in front of him, Thor went over to Steve's discarded pants and, sure enough, came back with a tube of KY Jelly. Tony sputtered. Did they even _have_ KY Jelly in the forties?! How did Steve know what that was?! 

Maybe they weren't doing with it what _Tony_ was thinking, though. Maybe they were going to oil up and wrestle with it.

Thor slicked up two fingers as he returned to the bed with Steve, who was contentedly waiting with his ass in the air and his head pillowed on his arms. Tony leaned forward and gripped at his screen, nose inches from the glass. Just because Thor was lubing up his fingers didn't mean what he _thought_ it meant.

And then that bit of denial went the way of Egypt as Thor shoved his two fingers up Steve's ass.

Tony winced. Thor had _big_ fingers.

Steve seemed to like it, though. In fact, Steve seemed to pretty much love it. He was already moaning lowly, ass wriggling around to help settle Thor's fingers in there. Thor poured a little bit more lube into his asshole, then started moving his fingers in and out. Steve's hips rolled, muscles in his flank bunching and releasing powerfully beneath the skin, like a work of Renaissance sculpture come to life. Tony gulped.

“This is good so far, Captain?” Thor asked.

“You can add another,” Steve prompted. Tony's eyes went wide. “I wanna feel it tomorrow. Don't be too gentle.”

“Aye, Captain,” Thor replied. Was he grinning? He looked like he was grinning. But Tony couldn't really bring himself to focus on Thor's face when Steve's was right there, pressed against his forearms, mouth open and eyes squeezed shut. His expression was softly pained, a little furrow between his brows, mouth working quietly between low moans and Thor's fingers thrust in and out. When Thor slipped a third finger in Steve's moans ratcheted up a notch, and then turned into a long, deep groan of pleasure when Thor unexpectedly shoved a fourth in alongside it. 

“That's great, yeah,” Steve breathed. Tony breathed along with him. “Press them into me harder, please. Ah-” Brutally Thor fucked Steve with his fingers, hand moving like he was jackhammering pavement. Steve's body arched as he cried out, mouth open and drooling on the sheets. His toes curled in the mattress, thighs tense with pleasure.

“Can you... now?” Steve asked. 

Tony's fingers cracked where tightened around the screen. “Can he what, Steve?” he whispered. “Can he... fuck you? Is that what you want?” 

Sure enough, Thor extricated his fingers from Steve and moved to pour some lubricant on his erection. His _huge_ erection, wow, Tony was just getting a look at the organ for the first time and it really lived up to the whole “godhood” hype. 

“You can't take that,” Tony murmured at the screen.

Thor seemed to be having the same thought as Tony as he jerked himself off, rubbing the lube onto his erection. “Are you sure you wish for me to penetrate you now? My manhood-”

“Is perfect, please,” Steve begged.

 _Begged_. Steve Rogers was on his knees, _begging_ Thor to fuck his ass. Abruptly Tony unbuckled his pants and spat into his hand. Yeah, he had already seen way too much to back out now. In for a penny, in for a pound—though it sure looked like Steve was the one getting pounded tonight.

When Thor entered Steve it was with a shout, echoed back to him by Steve himself whose head was flung black, neck arching beautifully to show off all that fair, unblemished skin. His face and chest were flushed pink, from what Tony could see on his monitors. He made a note to install 1080p security cameras in the future. He wanted to see every bead of sweat on Steve's skin, and he couldn't with these shitty SD cameras. Not that he was ever going to spy on Steve and Thor again.

On screen, Thor was pounding mercilessly into Steve, ass clenching tight with every thrust forward, thigh muscles propelling his hips forward. Beneath him, Steve was just _taking_ it. His moans were filling the room—both Thor's room and Tony's surveillance room. With every thrust he got louder, until he was shouting, begging Thor to take him _harder_ , _faster_ , _please_. 

Tony spilled over into his own hand well before either Thor or Steve stopped. The fucking _stamina_ those guys had. Panting, Tony cleaned himself up as he continued to watch the spectacle on screen. 

“Split me open, Thor,” Steve begged. “Please. Take me. Into the mattress. Please, please, harder-”

“I will give you harder!” Thor bellowed good-naturedly. His thrusts gained power, hands gripping Steve's ass tightly to hold him in place. A few more thrusts and Steve was finally crying out his release, body shaking and trembling even as Thor continued to brutalize his body with his dick.

Thor emptied himself with a shout inside of Steve a minute or two later, but Tony was too busy watching Steve's face, slack with pleasure, and his body, like a rag doll beneath Thor's powerful hands. Steve lay there for another minute or two after Thor was finished, then pushed himself up on shaking arms. He was limping as he stepped off the bed.

“Thanks,” he said cheerfully. Thor was lounging on his bed like the god he was, beaming at a job well done. Steve groaned as he bent down to pick up his clothes and gingerly slipped them on. His hair flopped messily over his forehead as he smiled back at Thor. Tony's heart clenched at the sight. After all that, _this_ was Steve at his most breath-taking. 

“Any time, my good Captain.” Thor replied with a grin. He nodded at Steve. “Do you think that will be enough for you to 'feel it' on the morrow?”

Steve's grin turned sharper, more wicked. “Oh yeah. You did alright,” he teased.

Thor threw back his head and laughed, and Steve took his leave. Tony sat back in his chair and stared moodily at the screens. So Thor and Steve were an item now—or at least fuck buddies. And Steve had been right, when he explained his reasoning to Thor earlier: there was no one else on the team for him to be with that way. 

Very briefly, Tony entertained the idea of letting his secret identity slip, just a little. Then he pushed that thought aside. He wasn't about to jeopardize everything just because he wanted some action. Even he wasn't that selfish.

Tony couldn't help but notice, in his moodiness, that Thor hadn't even given Steve a _kiss_.

Sam

Tony shook Sam's hand, glad not for the first time that the armor kept Iron Man expressionless. 

“And this is Sam Wilson, AKA the Falcon. He's my new partner.”

Tony bit down on whatever he was about to say and shook Sam's hand gamely. “Iron Man.” He couldn't bring himself to say 'pleasure to meet you.'

“Yeah, Cap's told me all about you!” Sam enthused. “Well, not _all_. No secret identities, don't worry, the guy's like a safe.” He knocked on Steve's head and Steve laughed and shoved him away. Tony pulled his gauntleted hand out of Sam's before he did something stupid like “accidentally” fire his repulsor blasts through the guy's hand. 

“Those were some great moves out there today,” Sam continued, oblivious to Tony's coldness towards him. “That armor packs a hell of a punch. And you and Cap really know how to work together. I'm jealous: me and him are still working out some of the kinks.”

Steve set a warm hand down on Tony's armored shoulder and smiled at him. “Well, Iron Man and I have been fighting alongside each other for longer. About six months, now. We've had plenty of time to practice.”

“And debrief,” Tony couldn't help pointing out. “They help us work out those 'kinks'. Which is what we should be doing now. Lift back to the Mansion?” Tony asked Steve. He put his boot forward so Steve could step onto it.

But Steve stepped back with a smile and shook his head. “Nah, Falcon's got me! We'll meet you back at the Mansion in... thirty minutes? I just wanna swing by my apartment first, wash off some of this grime.”

Tony didn't need his armor to tell him that Steve's pulse was spiking... and Sam's was, too. Not since he had eyes, and could clearly see the looks the two men were shooting each other. 

“Meet you there,” Tony said shortly. He took off before Sam or Steve could say anything more. 

It was fine. Steve had a boyfriend now—good for him. Those trysts with Namor and Thor were always obviously just blowing off steam, and becoming less common as Thor grew preoccupied with that young nurse Jane, while Namor wasn't reliable in the best of times. Steve seemed like the “going steady” type, so it was for the best that he heave someone like Sam in his life. Solid. Dependable. Nice guy.

If Tony blasted a Ming vase that had been in his family for decades when he got back to the mansion, well, impulse control still wasn't his strong suit.

* * *

“Who's that?” Tony asked, watching Sam leave with his arm around some pretty young thing. He was out of the armor and milling about the kitchen, trying to decide if he wanted to eat a snack before his seven thirty dinner date with half the CEOs of silicon valley. The nerd-execs usually couldn't drink, so he at least needed a couple stiff ones before he headed out. Tony poured himself three fingers and sat down next to Steve at the kitchen island.

Steve glanced over at Sam's retreating back before returning back to his StarkPad (and wasn't Tony just so proud of him for that). “Leila. Taylor. She's Sam's new gal.”

Tony coughed on his whiskey. “New gal?” he asked. Selfishly, his first emotion was a flash of hope at the thought that Steve was now single. But he tapped that down quickly, only to replace it with anger. _New_? _Gal_? He didn't want to ask, not so directly, but he thought Steve and Sam were an item. Had Sam broken up with Steve? Had the asshole hurt Steve in some way, and Tony hadn't noticed?

Steve seemed his usual stoic self, flipping through news stories on his tablet. Then again, Tony had come to learn that Steve was an expert at pretending everything was alright. “Yeah, she's swell.” Steve glanced up after a moment, seemingly sensing that something was wrong. He frowned at Tony. “Why? Do you know her?”

Tony shook his head. “No, no. I...” Tony frowned after Sam, trying to figure out if he should bother asking or not. Maybe he should just bypass Steve entirely and go directly to Sam, give him a good old-fashioned shovel speech.

But then a sly look came over Steve's face and he very casually turned his attention back to his tablet. “You know, someone might think your interest in Sam's love life is less than selfless.” Steve looked up at Tony and leaned in, wicked smile in place. “Is there something you wanted to tell me, Mr. Stark? You've always been a little standoffish towards the guy. Is it because someone's sweet on my partner?”

Tony scoffed, rolling his eyes. Dangerously close to the truth, but in the wrong direction. “Tony,” he corrected Steve absently, out of habit.

“Tony.” The use of his first name actually threw Tony for a loop—he couldn't remember a time when Steve had used it before. Steve was smiling gently at him. “Tony: you know if there's something like that concerning you, you can come to me. We're friends, aren't we?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Steve. We're friends.” Tony smiled shakily at Steve, getting a hand-squeeze for his efforts. The back of his hand tingled after Steve let go. 

“No interest in Sam, then?” Steve teased.

Tony rolled his eyes and punched Steve in the shoulder. It was like punching a wall of granite. “No interest. Come on: I'm Tony Stark. Consummate ladies man. If I don't pull three tonight on _accident_ , I'm slipping.”

It was Steve's turn to roll his eyes at that. Tony grinned, proud and unashamed in his womanizing ways. 

“Hey, but what about you,” Tony prompted. Since Steve himself had brought it up, Tony figured it couldn't hurt to ask. “You approve of this?”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Leila seems like a real nice dame. Er. Woman.” 

That wasn't the question Tony had been asking, but he shrugged and left it at that. Steve seemed genuinely alright, so maybe he was. Maybe the break-up had been mutual. Maybe they just hadn't been together in the first place, and Tony had been reading the situation all wrong?

Clint

Or maybe Steve had gone and found himself another boyfriend, Tony thought grimly to himself at the next Avenger meeting.

 _Clint Barton_. A bad boy. Steve didn't seem like he'd be the type to go for the reformed villain route, but then again, Steve's “type” seemed to be all over the board: Atlantean asshole king with jet-black hair and a severe shirt allergy; geeky blonde scientist guy with size-changing abilities; gorgeous blonde god who could pound an ass like it was raw dough; and most recently some chocolate thunder who was an _infuriatingly_ good guy, now that Tony was letting himself get to know him as Steve's best friend rather than his boyfriend. 

So Clint Barton might not fit the mold, but that was only because there _was_ no mold when it came to Steve. At least, no mold other than “not Iron Man,” it would seem.

Tony didn't like to judge, but Steve was kind of becoming the team slut.

Silently Tony chastised himself, locked away in his armor. If anyone was the team slut, it was him. At least Steve seemed to be content to stick to teammates or other supers. Tony banged just about anything with two legs. Sometimes not even that was a broad enough criteria. And besides that, there was nothing wrong with being a great big man whore. Which was apparently was Steve was. Kind of. A little bit.

Tony stalked out of the war room and away from Steve and Clint's close-talking, leaning into each other, hands-on-elbows intimacy. It was an exercise in patience for Tony to wait until his lab door was shut behind him before he pulled off his Iron Man helmet and hurled it across the room. It shattered some glass at the far end of the lab. Didn't matter. 

Tony knew he was being stupid. Steve wasn't going to come to him because he was _Iron Man_ , because Steve didn't know Iron Man's secret identity and because Iron Man didn't want Steve to know it. Steve wasn't about to ask a robot to fuck him—although Tony could probably make that happen, _would_ make it happen if Steve wanted it. And Steve wasn't going to ask Tony Stark to fuck him because Tony Stark was just some businessman, the financial backer of the Avengers: not a teammate, not a “shield brother”, as Thor had put it. 

Basically, when you laid out all the facts, Tony was being a jerk, and not a little bit jealous and clingy. Steve was free to fuck anybody he wanted, just like Tony did. There was good reason Steve didn't want to be with him. It wasn't anything against Tony. 

Changed into a dressed-down suit, Tony headed out of his lab and through the halls of Avengers Mansion. His brooding steps led him to the hallway where Clint was temporarily staying, until he got his feet under him. It was right next door to the room Tony had first given Steve, over a year ago when they had pulled him from the ice. 

Hands shoved casually into his pockets, Tony was determined to walk past Clint's room without listening in. But his feet betrayed him for the second time that evening, slowing to a crawl as he approached Clint's door. 

“ _Fuck, yeah. Yeah. Like that?_ ”

Tony's feet stuttered to a halt. He glanced around the hallway to make sure there was no one else around. 

“ _Clint... Darn it... Harder._ ”

Abandoning all semblance of innocence, Tony pressed his ear to the door, hands splayed across the doorframe. 

“ _You like that, Captain? You like taking that_?”

“ _Cut the chatter and just fuck me, woulda, Clint_?” 

Tony swallowed thickly. So it was just like that time with Thor. Tony wouldn't have guessed that. Did Steve always like it like that? Did he always bottom? Tony hadn't questioned it with Thor, but Clint... Tony would have figured Steve would top with Clint. He was an insubordinate little brat with too big a mouth on him. No way Steve should be “taking” anything from him: lip, cock, or otherwise.

The sound of Clint's laughter cut through the rhythmic noises of Clint's mattress creaking. 

“ _You like taking my cock, don't you Captain_? _You want more?_ ”

“ _Yeah, yeah_.” Steve's voice was breathy, barely carrying to the door. Tony's fingers curled around the doorframe.

“ _You want me to put this in you, too?_ ”

“ _Do it, Clint_.” 

“ _Suck it for me first. There you go. Yeah. Suck that cock_.”

Tony's ears strained but he couldn't hear anything more graphic than the creaking bed and Clint's voice. But he could picture what was going on. Steve must have a dildo in there, with him. And he wanted Clint to fuck him with it _while_ he was already fucking him with him own, natural dick. Was Clint too small? The thought gave Tony a momentary schadenfreude type of satisfaction, but a second's thought would reveal that wasn't the problem. Even Thor's godly dick had been barely good enough for Steve. 

The engineer side of Tony's brain immediately came up with about ten different solutions to Steve's extraordinary desires. Cock sleeves, vibrators, fucking machines, fucking saddles, strap-on double penetration dildos designed for use by men or women... Tony shifted, glad for the extra room in his suit pants.

“ _You think you can take this_?”

“ _Yes, yes. Give it to me. Come on, Clint_.”

“ _Alright, alright. Eager cock-slut_.”

“ _Shut your mouth, Clint, and just-_ ah, ah! _Yeah, there. Give it to me_.” Steve grunted loudly, then shouted. The rhythm of the mattress springs picked up speed. 

Tony decided just then that he'd heard enough. As quietly as he could, Tony stormed away.

If Steve wanted to fuck his way through the team, that was fine by him. Not like Tony was a _real_ member of the team—not that anyone knew, at least. 

Iron Man 

Tony clutched his red underwear to himself and shrugged sheepishly as Molecule Man was led away. “So, now you know.”

Steve had at least taken the news well. He laughed and shook his head, slapping a hand to Tony's shoulder. “Now I know. And honestly, I couldn't be happier. I always wondered who might be in the suit, but this is better than anything I came up with.”

“Really?” Tony asked. He was sure Steve would have been upset with the revelation: given him a lecture about leaving the superheroing up to the real supers. Maybe told him he was off the team and Tony had to turn over the suit to the professionals. Tony hadn't been sure _what_ to expect: it's why he had kept his identity secret for so long. But now that it was out, well. Apparently Steve thought everything was just swell.

“Of course,” Steve said with a smile. “Iron Man is my best partner in the field, and you've been a good friend to me out of it. Why wouldn't I be happy to find out two of my best guys were actually just one, even better guy?”

Tony's heart maybe skipped a beat, there. He didn't know—didn't have the suit to run diagnostics for him and tell him if it had or not. He knew that his palms had gone all clammy, and he was probably gaping like an overly dull fish. Shaking himself, Tony put on his most charming smile. If he had any game at all, now was the time to use it.

“Well, I mean. Uh. Now that you know who the guy under the suit is, and mission successfully completed, maybe you wanna blow off some steam? With Iron Man?” Tony punctuated his question with his most attractive leer. He could only hope it was effective.

Steve's expression froze for a long moment, before the smile started to slip from his face. Tony panicked, but had no idea how to fix this. 

“Oh, uh. No... Thank you, Tony. But no thanks. If you're asking what I think you're asking, I'd... I've got some things I need to look over. Debriefings and reports... I'll. See you. In a couple of days.” Steve's hand squeezed at Tony's shoulder again, rubbing there reassuringly for a long moment. He met Tony's eyes in what Tony supposed was supposed to be a sincere, comforting look. It just made Tony shift his gaze guiltily away.

He'd been wrong, he thought as Steve left him. He'd been wrong about everything. It wasn't that Steve didn't have a type. It wasn't that Steve was banging his way through his teammates. It wasn't that the only reason he'd been left out so far was because Steve respected his secret identity, or didn't know how to proposition Iron Man. It was Tony. Tony wasn't Steve's type. Tony was the exception to Steve's always-open legs. 

Tony went home to the Mansion and got himself drunk on something like three-quarters of a decanter of whiskey. The next morning he drank some hair of the dog, cleaned himself up, and decided that tonight he was going out to bang the first dozen women or men that he saw. That would show Steve. Somehow.

Tony

Seven o'clock that night and Tony was just stepping out of his shower, toweling his hair dry, when there was a knock on his door. He blinked, but wrapped the towel around his waist and went to answer the door. What was waiting for him almost made him drop his towel.

Steve was standing there, bouquet of flowers in one hand and bottle of scotch in the other. He was dressed in his best suit—Tony knew, because Tony had been the one to bring him to his tailors and get it made. 

“Mr. Stark. I was wondering if you would like to go on a date with me.”

Tony blinked again. “What.”

The tell-tale flush was starting to rise on Steve's cheeks and the tips of his ears. He shifted, just once, from his left foot to his right. “Uh. It's alright if you don't want to. But I assumed since your proposition yesterday you'd be willing to... entertain the idea? If... I understand you're quite the bachelor. And if you wanted to maintain that lifestyle, I understand. I won't let it effect my behavior in the field.”

“Wait, wait.” Tony waved one hand in front of him, still awkwardly clutching the towel with his other. “I thought you said you _didn't_ want to bang. Yesterday. It was yesterday, right? I didn't lose a whole day, did I?”

“I said I didn't want to- I'm asking you out on a date, Tony. Not just...” Steve waved his hand vaguely, flowers crinkling in their paper wrapping. Finally he sighed and let his hand drop, flowers tilting sadly down towards the floor. “Can I come in?”

Tony stepped aside without hesitation, only realizing once Steve entered his room that Tony was naked and he had just invited Steve into his bedroom. 

“Do you mind giving me a minute? I feel like I might want to be wearing clothes for this conversation,” Tony asked. 

Steve blushed, his eyes drifting down to Tony's hips for the first time since Tony had answered his door. “Right,” he mumbled. “Uh, yeah. Of course.” 

Tony hurried into his walk-in closet, dropping the towel once the door was closed. Quick as he could he tugged on a pair of comfortable jeans and work shirt, then stepped back out. His hair was still damp, and he hadn't shaved yet, but it would have to do.

Steve was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, flowers and scotch clutched in both hands. Tony rolled his eyes and went over to him, taking the gifts. He set the flowers and scotch on his vanity, then turned back to Steve. “Thank you for the gifts,” he said perfunctorily. “What's the deal with them?”

“I wanted to ask you out on a date,” Steve said for the second time. 

“But I asked you yesterday,” Tony reminded him.

“You didn't ask me on a _date_ ,” Steve corrected him. “What I did- 'Blowing off some steam', like you said: that's nothing. It's not a relationship. It's not about intimacy. I just... needed something to do after battles, something to slough off the extra adrenaline, to bring me out of it, back down to earth. Namor, Thor, Sam, Clint- those were just guys helping me out. Burning off that energy for me. And I wouldn't mind doing those things with you Tony, of course I wouldn't, I mean: look at you! But I thought maybe we could do something more. If you wanted.”

Tony processed this. Then he grinned, slow and big. “So you think I'm hot.”

Steve flushed. “You could put it that way.”

“And you want to fuck me.”

“Was kind of hoping for the other way around, but I'll take what I can get,” Steve commented with a shrug.

Tony's mouth watered and his jeans suddenly seemed like a bad choice. “If I promise to take you out to dinner tonight, can I fuck you now?”

Steve's face twisted up adorably, expression the very epitome of conflicted. “Seems a little backwards, doesn't it?”

Slinking forward as sensually as he could—and he was Tony Stark, he had pretty much mastered the sensual slink—Tony slid his hands up Steve's chest until they draped over his shoulders. Steve's breathing hitched. Tony was close enough that he didn't need his suit to tell him that.

“Yeah, but I'm a futurist and you're from the past, so I figure chronology isn't our strong suit,” Tony pointed out. 

“Alright.”

“Alright?” Tony's eyes lit up.

Steve was smiling down at him. “Alright,” he murmured. And then he was leaning in to kiss Tony and... Wow. Oh. _Wow_. Tony's hands came up to tug at Steve's head, hold him in place and bring him in closer, because this was just about the best kiss Tony had ever gotten. Soft and sweet, tentative but enthusiastic, like Steve was trying to restrain himself but not succeeding. Tony grinned into Steve's mouth and kissed him harder. He was going to break down Steve's restraint until it was gone, this evening. 

When Tony ended the kiss he nodded eagerly at Steve. “Lose the clothes,” he ordered. Steve seemed all too happy to comply, shucking his fancy suit and tossing it over a chair, almost wrinkling it in his haste. With just a shirt and jeans to slip out of, Tony was naked well before Steve. He made good use of his head start by climbing onto his bed and propping himself up on his pillows, hand between his legs to squeeze lazily at his erection. 

Once all his clothes were neatly-enough laid aside, Steve stood at the foot of Tony's bed in all his naked glory. And glorious it sure as hell was. 

“By my stars and garters,” Tony proclaimed.

For a split second Steve looked like he thought Tony was being serious. Then he broke down laughing, and Tony joined him, squirming on his bed in a fit of giggles. Growling, Steve crawled up the bed towards Tony, towering over him. “You keep that up, mister, and I'll have to beat you red, white, and blue.”

Tony laughed loudly, then yelped as Steve bent down and bit a hickey into his pec. Tony writhed beneath the attention, finally breaking free after a moment of struggling and climbing on top of Steve. Obviously Steve was letting Tony overpower him, but Tony found he didn't mind in the least. They both knew what Steve wanted this evening, and they knew Steve was the stronger of the two of them (without Tony's armor, at least).

Tony ground his pelvis down against Steve's, grinning broadly when Steve groaned and arched up into him. The line of his neck was so taut and perfect that Tony had to lean down and _lick_ his way up it, teeth scraping at that perfect jawline. Tony was almost overwhelmed with his ability to _touch_ , with the fact that everything he'd seen and fantasized about was now right here, beneath his hands, beneath his hips. His for the taking. 

“Grab me that lube. Top drawer,” Tony ordered. While Steve was distracted by reaching over for the drawer, Tony slipped his way down his body and took Steve's thick, long dick into his mouth. Steve moaned, his hips stuttering against Tony's face as he took Steve's length down his throat in one smooth motion, then pulled back quickly. Still got it, he thought smugly to himself. 

“You've got a fantastic dick, Steve. Anyone ever tell you that?” Tony commented. He lapped at the head of Steve's penis absently, tonguing the slit as his eyes flickered up to watch Steve's reaction. Judging by the face he was making, he was pretty happy with what Tony was doing.

“Uh... Yes?” Steve replied uncertainly. “I mean, the doctors all thought it turned out proportional...”

“You are fucking with me, but I'll take it, because the innocent little 'I'm from the forties' thing you pull is kind of turning me on right now.”

The accuracy of Tony's assessment was confirmed when a bottle of lube hit his shoulder as he bent down to lick a line up Steve's dick. He grabbed for it and shared a grin with Steve, who wasn't looking the least bit put-out that he'd been called on his naïve posturing. 

Smearing the lube onto his fingers, Tony slid two into Steve's ass without asking. He knew the guy could take it—his fingers weren't exactly thunder-god width. Sure enough, Steve moaned and bore down on Tony's fingers, tight heat enveloping them easily. Tony groaned and stared down between Steve's legs, watching his hand slide in and out. 

“You want three?”

“I want all of it,” Steve moaned.

Tony slipped in a third finger and spread them wide. After a moment he grabbed for Steve's leg with his free hand, hauling his hips into Tony's lap so he had a better angle. With that, Tony could spread out Steve with his fingers and dribble lube straight into his ass. He scraped his fingers along the inside of Steve, pressing his fingertips firmly against his hot inner walls. Steve was eating it up, moaning and arching into Tony's touch.

“The things I'm going to do to this ass,” Tony murmured. “Going to eat it out, fuck it raw. Stuff it full with everything I've got, pound it into submission. Your ass is mine now, Rogers, and I ride my toys hard and put them away wet.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Steve groaned, hips rolling in Tony's lap.

“Yeah, fuck yourself on my fingers,” Tony grunted. Steve's hips moved more purposefully, fucking himself as hard as he could from that angle. Tony slipped a fourth finger in, watching as Steve just _took_ it, his ass sucking Tony in like it never wanted him to leave. 

“Want me to fuck you like this?” Tony asked, slipping his fingers out. “On your back, spread open for me?”

“No, wait.” 

Tony stopped immediately, looking up the bed at Steve. He had propped himself up on his elbows and was frowning down at Tony. “Condoms?” he asked.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Come on, you're a super soldier-”

“Safe sex is smart sex,” Steve insisted firmly.

Tony rolled his eyes again, good-naturedly, and shoved Steve out of his lap so he could crawl up the bed and fumble around in his bedroom drawer for condoms. He pulled one out and tossed it at Steve's head, laughing at his consternated look as it bounced off. 

“Alright, alright,” Tony acquiesced with a quick kiss. “But if we're going to be dating, I want us to get tested and cleared as soon as we can so I can fuck you bareback.” Tugging Steve in for a more last kiss, Tony licked at the inside of Steve's mouth, paying careful attention to the way Steve's body melted against his. “I want to coat your insides with my come,” Tony whispered against Steve's lips. “I want to fill you up as many times as I can in one night, until you're bursting with it, until you're brushing my teeth and tasting my come. Then I'll stuff you up with a buttplug and fuck you again the next night, so you're my dripping, soaking wet little cumslut. You want that?”

“Oh, dang, Tony,” Steve moaned. “Tony, please. Please get inside me? Please.”

The begging thing was _amazingly_ hot. Captain America, naked and begging for Tony Stark's cock. It was an ego trip and porn in the flesh, and it was all Tony's. 

Tony tugged Steve into position: splayed out on his back, legs bent up by Tony's ears and ass in his lap. Quickly Tony rolled on the condom, then spread some more lube over it. He pushed into Steve easily, Steve taking it like the pro he was. 

Steve reached a hand out to Tony, gripping tight on his forearm as his head pressed back against the mattress. “Ah, Tony, yes. Yes, yes.”

Steve's body was painfully perfect, hugging Tony tight and wet and hot. Taking a shaky breath, Tony slid one hand along Steve's stomach, fingertips skittering over sculpted abs and flawless skin. A light sheen of sweat was breaking out along Steve's body, and Tony ran his hand through it, wiping it down. 

“ _Move_ ,” Steve moaned, hips arching against Tony. 

Far be it for Tony to deny Steve anything. He moved, sliding almost all the way out and then fucking sharply back in. Steve moaned, and Tony did it again, then again. He built speed as he went, until he was steadily pounding into Steve's ass.

“You want me to add a finger?” Tony asked, painfully aware of his own inadequacy in this department. It wasn't that he was small: he was above average, thank you very much. But he was no thunder-god, or Clint with a dildo. 

But Steve was shaking his head, sweaty hair flopping against his forehead. “No, no, Tony: you're perfect. Just like this.” Steve's hand rubbed at Tony's forearm, stroking it lovingly. “Just like this. Perfect.”

Tony drove in deep and rolled his hips, moving his dick around deep inside. Steve loved that, moaning and tossing his head back and forth on the mattress, mouth hanging open. It was pretty much all Tony could do just to hold on, to not come, to keep his hips moving as best he could. For all his experience in the bedroom, Tony felt like a teenager all over again, fumbling and just hoping he was doing a good enough job. Luckily, Steve was vocal enough to keep the worst of Tony's insecurities at bay.

“Yes, Tony: just like that. Ung, good, Tony. Yes, good, right there, _ah_! Right there, Tony, you're good, so good, feel so good inside me, perfect, Tony. _Tony_.” 

Steve came untouched, ejaculate spurting up his stomach and chest in long, thick ribbons. His mouth fell open beautifully, so much so that Tony had to lean forward and plunder it, sucking Steve's tongue into his mouth. Tony poured himself into the condom a few thrusts later, bottoming out in Steve's ass and grinding his hips to wring the last few drops of come out of himself. 

When Tony pulled out, Steve whimpered at the loss, hand still clutching at Tony's forearm. Tony tied off the condom and tossed it at a trashcan lazily, then collapsed next to Steve on the bed on top of the sheets. Briefly Tony entertained the idea of getting them both between the covers, but their skin was hot and they were going to grab dinner after this, so he abandoned the idea and instead satisfied himself with cuddling against Steve's side.

“You know I'm going to build you about a hundred fuck-toys by tomorrow night,” Tony commented as they basked in the afterglow. 

“Sounds good,” Steve commented, straight-faced. Tony glared and propped himself up, check Steve for an hint of a smile. Raising an eyebrow up at Tony, Steve commented: “Well. Obviously you'll need some help keeping me satisfied. Because that didn't go well at _all_.”

“You are a subordinate,” Tony reminded Steve with a grumble. He flopped back down onto Steve's chest and ignored the way Steve's big arms coming up to cuddle him belied his comment about outranking Steve. “You should respect the chain of command.”

“Mmm, that reminds me: have you ever tried anal beads? I haven't yet, but they sure look like fun,” Steve wondered absently.

Tony played with Steve's nipple and grinned. Maybe Steve would be up for round two after dinner. And Tony hadn't even found out first-hand what Tony was like after a battle. Maybe he should stage a little battle. Just a small one. Wrecking Crew or something like that—just enough to get Steve's blood pumping.

 


End file.
